You're My Knife
by wasteland
Summary: In a wave of unfeeling numbness, both Harry and Draco have found comfort in the unforgiving cold of the metal knife and each other. Drarry slash, self injury, may be triggering.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Draco, Harry, or any of the other characters that are the creation of J.K Rowling.

Summary: In a wave of unfeeling numbness, both Harry and Draco have found comfort in the unforgiving cold of the metal knife- and each other.

Chapter One: You're My Knife

He sat at the edge of his bed, grasping his guitar, and trying to ignore the insanity welling up inside of him. Throwing his dark black hair back, he started to strum a few chords, and began to sing in his deep gravelly voice.

_biting keeps your words at bay  
tending to the sores that stay  
happiness is just a gash away  
when i open a familiar scar  
pain goes shooting like a star  
comfort hasn't failed to follow so far..._

_and you might say it's self-indulgent  
you might say its self-destructive  
but, you see, it's more productive  
than if i were to be healthy_

_& pens and penknives take the blame  
crane my neck & scratch my name  
but the ugly marks  
are worth the momentary gain...  
when i jab a sharpened object in  
choirs of angels seem to sing  
hymns of hate in memorandum_

Setting his guitar down gently, he looked to his side, seeing the bloodstained knife set to the side of him. Sighing he got up, and walking to the window, let himself out of the house. Accidently scraping his already scarred skin on the side of the house, he looked at it. Bringing the tender flesh to his mouth, he licked the oozing blood off, and savored the metalic taste of fresh blood, before swinging to the ground, and setting off towards the park.

Reaching the park, the thin male started toward the swings, prepared to take his favorite swing. Upon reaching them, however, the male noticed a lone figure sitting upon them. "Who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing here?" he snarled.

The boy looked up with dull silvery-gray eyes. "It's a park, anyone is allowed." He glanced down hesitantly at scarred arms, before crossing them over his chest and turning away from the angry intruder.

"Get off of my swing." came the reply, in a calm, measured voice, before he stepped up to the boy, who had since turned his back on him, and was proceding to ignore him.

"I don't see your name."

"That's too bad." Harry replied between gritted teeth. "Because that's my god damn swing."

"Why the hell are you making such a big deal out of this?" the soft-spoken grey eyed boy questioned, turning back to the cobalt-haired boy, glaring him full in the eye. "This is in no way your swing, nor your park. So screw off."

The emerald eyed boy growled in annoyance, but complied to the boy's wishes, grabbing a swing a few feet away from him, and turning toward the small pond that the park bordered on. Pulling a portable cd player, he plugged two small speakers into it, and started to blast Bright Eyes, while singing along in his raspy voice that made him sound like he had been smoking for years.

"Turn that down, hmm?" Draco asked quietly, turning to face him. "I can't concentrate with that up so loud, and I was here first."

"Thats okay, I like it this level. Or perhaps higher?" He turned the volume up another few notches, screeching to the music, and bouncing a bit.

Draco mumbled incoharntly, and turned again, attempting to ignore the other boy. All he wanted was a few moments of peace, when he could see his very life flow. He couldn't do it at home, no, not anymore. He closed his eyes, bracing himself against the pain each and every breath he drew took. His heart was so battered and bruised, he couldn't even think. With a soft moan, he brought the sharp tool to his wrist, and with a hissing intake of air, pulled the box cutter across his pulsating vein, pressing down as hard as he could.

Harry turned at the slight moan falling from the boy's deep red lips. He'd reconize that sound anywhere, as it was the exact sound he would amit when the feeling of warmth, brought on by the gentle parting of skin that only an instrument as delicate as a new boxcutter could produce.

"Um. What the hell are you doing, dumbass?" Harry made his way over to Draco, touching his shoulder softly, knowing from experience, that when cutting, you were apt to go into a sort of a... trance. He picked up the abandoned boxcutter, and pocketed it for later.

"What the fuck?" an angry, bleeding Draco yelped. He stood, the blood still gracefully flowing out of his slit arm.

Harry rolled his eyes, the still wet blood present on the boxcutter he had slipped into his pocket, starting to stain the outside of his pants, in a neat shape, the shape of a boxcutter. "I'm leaving. Good night."

"Wait." The slim male lurched forward, latching onto the raven haired teen that was beginning to amble away, ever so slowly, as if wishing the blond would try to stop him. His eyes stared out desperately, fingers fumbling on the slipperly leg of the pants.

"Yes?" Harry turned back, appearing annoyed, but secretly pleased.

"Can.. can I please have my boxcutter back? It's my.. my last one." Draco's tearing eyes stared pleadingly up at Harry's. "I need it, please." He pulled himself up to a sitting postition, grasping at Harry's slippery jeans in an attempt to stay upright. His slit wrist was still bleeding from the cut he had placed upon it, and the blood flowing to his palms, making the hold on Harry's jeans quite unsure.

Harry laughed. What a pathetic, pathetic loser. How was this the Draco he had known in school? That Draco had been strong, in control. Now here he was, practically sobbing at Harry's feet. Aparently, they were both very different people away from Hogwarts, sad, and lonesome in their own ways. "You are just sad, you know that?" Dragging the surprisingly thin boy to his feet, Harry pulled him over to the bench, next to the pond, and sat him down.

Draco sat as far away from Harry as he possibly could, drawing his impossibly bony legs up to his heaving chest. He heard a mocking laugh, and flinched when the unforgivingly sharp object that had previously been taken away was thrown at him.

"There. Have your precious little toy. I hope you bleed to death." With that, Harry stood, and walked off, this time, quickly and purposefully, without looking back.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Draco, Harry, or any of the other characters that are the creation of J.K Rowling.

Summary: In a wave of unfeeling numbness, both Harry and Draco have found comfort in the unforgiving cold of the metal knife- and each other.

Chapter Two

"Mmph." Draco moaned, awaking from his deep sleep. He stretched, and yowled when his wrist, covered in dry blood, was found to be sticking to the fabric of his shirt. "Damnit. How the hell did I get here?" He peered around, noting that he was still in the park. Slowly, it started to come back...

_ "Who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing here?" _

_"It's a park, anyone is allowed." _

_"Get off of my swing."_

Oh yes. The lovely Harry Potter. The famous Boy Who Lived. He had found him there, trying to get away. To cut himself. And that bastard had to interupt. God. Now he remembered. He had tried to steal his sanity, his only tool of self destruction that could save him. All the others were gone. But not that one.. He had one left. And he had gotten it back. Right? Hastily, Draco stuck his hand in his pocket, sighing in relief when the cool metal of the boxcutter left a bloody imprint on his hand.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bench, Draco gave his legs a moment to stablize, before getting to his feet, and starting toward the gate that led to the entrance to the park, which also served as an exit.

Stumbling throughout the bit of forest that served as an entry way to the park, Draco nearly stumbled over a passed out Harry, who stunk of strong liquor. "Oh, gag." Kicking Harry, Draco tried to wake him up, to no avail. "Damnit, Harry! Wake up!" He had no choice. It was either sticking his finger in water, or biting him. Since there was no water around, Draco leaned down and bit as hard as he could on Harry's tender earlobe.

"Agh, what the hell..?" Harry mumbled, rolling over, and accidently pushing Draco over. He slowly opened an eye, but quickly slammed it shut, for the bright sunlight was too much for his tender aching eyes at the present time.

Draco growled lowly under his breath, and kicked Harry in the stomach. "Wake up, damnit!"

Harry whimpered, turning away and curling into a ball. "Leave me alone."

SIghing, Draco yanked on one of the raven haired teen's arms. "Harry, you're hungover and you reek. Lets go, shall we?" He pulled Harry to his feet, and draped an arm around him, dragging him along, amid Harry's pathetic whimpering.

He clung desperatly to Draco, closely his eyes tightly to the swirling world that surrounded him. Wrapping his arms around Draco's neck, he leaned on him, and rested his throbbing head on Draco's strong shoulder.

"Come on..." Draco yanked on the hungover teen's arms again, trying to get him to move a bit faster.

"Mm, stop." Harry murmered, leaning heavily on the silver haired teen to stay upright. "Les go slower."

"No. Keep going." Draco hurried Harry along, knowing that he had limited time to get him to his house. "Harry, we're going to go to my house, get you cleaned up, and then you're going home. Ew, you need a bath. Really bad."

"Stop talking." Harry whined loudly, covering his ears with his hands, while moaning about how much his head hurt, and that he must have slept on it funny last night, must have slept on a rock.

"You're hungover, dumbass." Draco rolled his eyes, how did he not know that? It was quite obvious.

Harry snarled at Draco, then passed out again, leaving Draco to drag his dead weight home.

Still grumbling to himself, Draco finally reached the front steps to his house. Peering through the misty fog, Draco noted with a thankful sigh that no one was home.

He walked up to the front door, and unlocked it, stepping inside. He stumbled up the stairs slowly, lugging Harry with him. "God, you're heavy." he panted, gently propping a sleeping Harry up against the wall.

Harry groaned, and began to stir. "Where... where am I? Whats going on?"

Draco simply rolled his eyes, and turned away, turning on the taps in the bath tub. He turned back to Harry, dreading that he had to undress him, yet also looking forward to it.. for some.. reason. He shook his head, disgusted at the fact that he was having these sort of thoughs about the Golden Boy. He walks over to Harry, and pulls him to his feet, setting im on the toilet, and beginning to take off his clothing, starting with shoes and socks. His eyes shot to the top of his pants, and with a gulp, started to undo the button and the zipper. Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached his hand up to Harry's waistband sides, and slid his pants down.

All that remained were a tight shirt, and his low boxers. He put his hands on the bottom of Harry's shirt, and started to gently pull it off. Oh sweet lord, he had his nipples pierced! And oh wow... Look at those scars! They ran all over his chest and stomach, but they were beautiful. He traced a heart shaped scar with the tip of finger, and could feel Harry's heart beating underneath it. Harry squirmed a bit, and moaned softly. Draco drew a ragged breath, not realizing he had previously been holding it.All that remained on Harry's tight little body was his boxers...

Draco slid a finger into the elastic waistabnd of the boxers, feeling how muscular Harry was. He licked his dry lips, and proceeded to drag off Harry's boxers, giggling "Thank you." when Harry arched his back, as if helping him take his boxers off. He couldn't help but look, and my, Harry was well equipped.

WIth one final glance, Draco tore his eyes away. and walked over to the huge bathtub, which could actually be considered a hot tub, and finding it to be the perfect temperature, turned back to Harry.

Picking the boy up in his arms, Draco made it a point not to look at him as a sexual being, but as his mortal enemy. But if he was his mortal enemy, why was he helping him? Draco shook his head, and placed Harry in the warm water.

Harry awoke with a start as soon as he sunk into the bath. "What the...?" He gazed around confused, and obviously, still a little, or maybe more, drunk. His eyes lit up when he saw Draco standing there. "Come on in, sexy." he slurred, making waving motions with his hands.

Draco blushed and shook his head. "Uh, no thanks.." Why was he being so damn polite? This was ENEMY! Nothing more, nothing less. Normally, he would sneer at him, and say something awful, but there was just something so... vulnerable underneath that tough exterier... Draco just couldn't bring himself to say anything that he normally would. Perhaps he and Harry had something in common: their misery.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Draco, Harry, or any of the other characters that are the creation of J.K Rowling.

Summary: In a wave of unfeeling numbness, both Harry and Draco have found comfort in the unforgiving cold of the metal knife- and each other.

Chapter Three

Harrt stared at Draco hungrily. "Come in. Don't be shy." He moved over a bit, making room for Draco to lay next to him.

Draco shook his head. No way was he getting in a bath with a drunken idiot, much less Harry Potter, no matter how hot he was. He stole another glance at Harry's body, covered in a light blonde fuzz of hair all over. He gulped, trying to convince himself it wouldn't be a good idea to get in with him. But maybe just for a little bit... Draco mentally shook himself, hoping to free him mind of these thoughts. To his disapointment, the thoughts didn't disappear, if anything, they increased. He snuck another look, and saying, "Ah hell." began to undress.

Harry grinned, and moved over more, watching Draco strip. First off came his shirt, and then his pants, revealing light thin pink scars running all over the top of his muscular arms. With a glance behind him, Draco slipped off his tight boxers, and lowering his eyes, turned around. He gracefully stepped over to the bathtub, and slid in beside Harry. Turning to him, Harry wrapped a lazy arm around Draco's shoulder, pulling him closer, and laying his head on Draco's chest.

Draco squirmed beneath him, but soon calmed, lulled by the sound of Harry's heartbeat thudding below him. Harry soon fell asleep, and lolled off Draco into the warm water. Draco stared, transfixed. Stretching out a cautious finger, he gently traced the beautiful heart shaped scar upon his chest. He could not make out the words inside of it, but he was certain it said something in it. Hm, that'd make for an interesting story when Harry was sober. Placing a kiss to it, he pulled Harry back on him, rubbing the soft black hair that adorned his head. Harry groaned lowly in his sleep, and snuggled up to Draco more, nuzzling him.

Draco smiled softly, simply watching Harry sleep. What a gorgeous, beautiful boy.

Harry woke, and stretched, widening his mouth in a yawn. Laying his chin on Draco's stomach, he gazed up at him with sleep-glazed eyes, and yawned again, showing his dazzling white teeth. "Good morning." he drawled lazily, tracing a finger up Draco's stomach. Draco involentarily shivered in delight, and Harry smirked at him. Draco avoided his eyes, and made a point of splashing the water around the tub. Harry moved up Draco's body, their slippery skin sliding over each other easily. Draco froze, glancing back at Harry quickly, and then averting his eyes.

Harry grinned; this was to be easy. He placed a hand on each side of Draco's face, and turned it so he was facing Harry. Drawing Draco's head nearer to his own, he gently placed his lips to the very side of his mouth, dropping soft kisses on his cheek, before moving to Draco's mouth. Meanwhile, Draco, partly horrified, partly enjoying the attention he was getting, watched Harry's eyes half-close, and moan deep in his throat. Their lips moved over each other like soft catarpillars, tasting each other for the first time. Draco ended the kiss, tugging lightly on Harry's bottom lip, before drawing away, gasping for breath.

Draco stared into Harry's eyes. "Harry?" he whispered. "What the hell was that?"

Harry smirked at him, and drew his finger gently down Draco's cheek."Do I really need to define it for you?" he murmered, laying his head in the crook in Draco's neck, and sucking intently on the tender flesh.

Draco moaned softly, running his hands through Harry's wet hair, before moving down to his lower back. Harry continued to suckle at his skin, nibbling harshly here and there. Draco drew his nails roughly up Harry's back, leaving a bloodied trail of skin. Harry pressed himself closer to Draco, trailing a line of wet kisses up his neck, till he reached his mouth. He nibbled on the bottom lip, before slipping his tongue into Draco's wet mouth. Draco opened his mouth willingly, and wrapped his long arms around Harry's neck, deepening the kiss. Draco hesitantly drew a trembling hand down the inside of Harry's stomach, feeling as he groaned deeply into his mouth. "Is this.. ah.. okay?" he whispered.


End file.
